


Loyal Beasts

by TheRebelDread



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 6x09, Blood, Canon Divergence - Battle of the Bastards, Drabble, Gen, Gore, Other, Psychological Horror, Ramsay Bolton/His Hounds, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRebelDread/pseuds/TheRebelDread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a side of you I've never seen. You're not the girl that you used to be. And you've got me right where you want me..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyal Beasts

Sansa was all shadows in the dim torchlight of the dungeons, flames licking at her red hair. Her face no longer gave Ramsay that familiar shiver of fiendish joy, but instead brought red, bubbling rage. It rose like bile in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. There was no sign of it on his face, only a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. So like his father he had become. She thought he knew him, the clever girl, but the man she married had become a new monster entirely; reborn in blood and hatred, salt, sweat and flickering torches. _Come and see,_ he thought. _You wouldn't dare._

 

But the wolf girl had grown bold, and perhaps a bit more like the name he'd given her. Wild. Merciless. _Bolton_. He recognized that look. He heard a low, familiar growl as one of his hounds stalked slowly past the gates. Then another.

 

Maybe he really was a part of her now.

 

He gazed cautiously over his shoulder. “My hounds will never harm me,” he warned.

 

“You haven't fed them in seven days, you said so yourself.” It was almost a question. Her proud voice cracked just so, still she held strong. He admired that, but picked at her like an old scab.

 

“They're loyal beasts.” His heart betrayed him as it hammered nervously in his chest. He knew better than to be afraid, his dogs could smell it. Taste it. Ramsay was not afraid.

 

“They were.. Now they're starving.”

 

_Oh Sansa.._

 

One of the hounds circled around to stand in front of him, her stance predatory. She licked her snout. Ramsay knew her: her name, the colour of her coat, the cut of her ears, the way she looked up at him almost shyly. He knew just where to scratch to turn her into an overgrown puppy keening into his hand. Now he was presented to her like fresh meat. She put her paws on his knees and brought her face close to his. She was heavy, her breath hot against his face. Ramsay's heart pounded like the heavy, beating drum of an approaching army. He backed his face away slowly, and the hound licked at his cheek. A shaky breath left Ramsay's lungs, and Sansa smiled.

 

“Down...heel.” The hound went rigid, every muscle in her body as tense as her Master's. Ramsay raised his voice. “I said, 'heel.'” There was a long moment where Ramsay stopped breathing, and the air in the dungeons went still. Then the hound lowered her head. _“Down.”_

 

She flattened herself on the dirt floor, her head between her large paws as she looked up at him with submissive, bashful eyes. “Good girl,” Ramsay purred.

 

Sansa's face turned a ghostly white.

 

The rest of the dogs backed away and sat in the mud obediently, looking to their Master for command. The bitch at his feet whimpered. “That's better. You're daddy's girl, aren't you?” His voice was low and raw at the edges from swallowing blood. He twisted his hands against the ropes that bound him and the chair creaked. He wished he could reward her with a scratch behind the ears. “Come,” he told her.

 

She sprang to her feet with a bark and once again was in his lap. She nuzzled his neck and licked at his face, smearing blood and dirt. Ramsay sighed a contented _'Mmmm'_ in return. She was loyal. She was good.

 

“That's my girl.”

 

The Stark girl backed herself against the cold wall, slopping mud on her pretty dress. He chest felt tight, her heart racing. She gasped for breath. She remembered Ramsay's hands around her throat; tighter, tighter....

 

“Don't worry, Sansa,” Ramsay spoke, “you'll get what you want.”

 

She clawed at her throat, trying to pry at invisible hands. “What?!”

 

He looked up at her, vivid blue and blood caked lashes. He smirked. “I wasn't talking to you.”

 

Silence. Muffled emptiness closed in around her. She heard nothing over the blood pumping in her ears.

 

He whistled sharply, and the hound snapped back to meet her eyes. The rest of the pack stood at attention, their growls low and predatory.

 

Ramsay's smile was ravenous, teeth bared like one of his hounds, his eyes wild. “You're right,” he admitted. “They're starving.”

 

“ _No!”_

 

He turned his attention back to the hound in his lap.“Sansa..  _Ossēnagon_ _.”_

 

 

The hounds scattered, their bark loud and sharp. The redhead ran as fast as she could, but Winterfell was their home; she had opened their gates, and they knew where to run. They could smell her fear.

 

Sansa screamed. A shrill, bloodcurdling sound that echoed through the dungeon halls. Ramsay knew Jon would hear, and he would come running for his sweet little sister. He would find her skin shredded and her eyes ripped from their sockets, that pretty face mangled beyond recognition. The bastard would beat him until his face caved in, Ramsay knew. Until his brains covered the dungeon floor. But why not. His time here had come to an end, and after all, it had been so much fun the first time.

 

He closed his eyes and listened as Sana's screams turned into voiceless gurgles of blood.. then silence.

 

Ramsay smiled. “Good girls..”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 'I know I'm a bastard, but I'm not a coward.' - Framing Hanley: 'You Stupid Girl'
> 
> Ossēnagon means 'kill' in Valyrian.. Take that context however you will.


End file.
